Sharp Lessons
by Jinxed-Wood
Summary: The air was colder than Martha expected when she landed at Charles De Gaulle airport, and she was contemplating pulling her leather jacket out of her suitcase when a sharp breeze whipped her braids into her face...


**Written for the 'bringthehappy' prompt community on LJ! The prompt being, "_Highlander/Doctor Who (x-over) ; Martha/Methos ; Martha getting swordfighting lessons from Methos."_

* * *

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The air was colder than Martha expected when she landed at Charles De Gaulle airport, and she was contemplating pulling her leather jacket out of her suitcase when a sharp breeze whipped her braids into her face.

"Martha Jones-Smith, I presume," a voice drawled, as she anchored her hair behind an ear.

"Well, it sure isn't Livingstone," she said, with a grin, as she eyed the man slouched against the bonnet of the SUV beside her. "Adam Pierson?"

"Last time I checked."

"Do you double check often?"

He smirked. "It's as if you know me."

* * *

Joe Dawson was not what she was expecting. She'd thought he'd be some version of a tweedy professor - what she actually got was a grizzled old war vet, with a rather off beat sense of humour and some excellent scotch in his bottom drawer. Mickey would love him.

"Are you _sure_ Alastair said Adam was the one he wanted?" Joe asked.

Martha nodded. "And I quote - sneakiest bastard with a blade I've ever met. You're going to need that."

Joe snorted. "Oh, kid, if only you knew."

* * *

Two weeks later, as she found herself flat on her back for the seventh time that day, Martha cursed the day she met Alastair Lethbridge-Stewart.

"Sword up, one foot forward, one back, never–"

"–over extend myself." Martha said, groaning as he pulled her to her feet. "Yes, I know, got that the first five hundred times, thanks."

Adam smirked. "Ooh, getting snarky, are we?" he hadn't let go of her hand, and was doing something funny with her wrist, pressing his fingers into her palm

"Ow!" .she complained.

"Baby," he muttered. "I think you need a lighter blade, but something with both cut and thrust. Mortuary blade or Walloon - both weigh in at about two pounds. More than manageable." He let go of her hand, and raised his blade. The Ivanhoe was huge and weighed at least twice that of her Claymore broadsword.

Martha was beginning to suspect he wasn't quite human.

* * *

Martha stared down with horror at the body she had just skewered, and then dropped to her heels to feel for a pulse. "Oh God, I killed him. I didn't mean to. He just came out of nowhere!"

"Not quite," Adam said dryly. "Just the changing rooms. He likes to sneak up on me every now and again. I think he watched too many Pink Panther movies back in the sixties - Martha Jones-Smith, meet Duncan MacLeod."

Martha felt the blood drain from her face. "Duncan MacLeod, as in your _friend, _Duncan? Oh, _Adam_, I'm _so_ sorry."

"Not half as sorry as I am," said the corpse on the floor.

Martha let out a small sound, that might have been a squeak, if she'd allowed herself to do that sort of thing anymore. "You were dead."

Duncan MacLeod blinked up at her, and smiled winningly. "Well, obviously not, because here I am."

Martha's lips thinned. "Pull the other one, it's got a medical degree on it. I know dead when I see it."

"Five minutes," Adam said, disgust showing in his voice. "Five minutes, that's how long you've been back in town."

"Yes, that's right, because you're not remotely capable of dropping yourself in it without my help," Duncan drawled.

Martha closed her eyes. "This is going to be one of _those _stories, isn't it?" she said. "The kind that involves aliens and Armagedden."

Duncan gave her a quizzical look, while Adam let out a snort. "So I'm guessing that tall tale Alastair gave me about retiring from UNIT, and you being seconded to MI6 is a load of cobblers.

"And I'm guessing that story he gave me about you being ex-Torchwood, but that you didn't like to talk about it, is also fabricated," Martha sighed.

"Ah," Adam said. "Not quite."

Martha raised an eyebrow. "I don't want to know, do I?"

"_I _do," Duncan said.

"And the boyscout has spoken," Adam said. "Just so you know. When you get abducted, I'm not coming looking for you."

Duncan gave him an offended look. "I d'nae _ever_ need rescuing."

Martha coughed. "You really shouldn't say things like that," she muttered to him under her breath.

* * *

"You introduced him to your husband – _really?_" Adam said dryly.

"How was _I_ to know they'd go all Butch and Sundance on a Judoon policed world?" Martha asked, in what she thought was a reasonable tone of voice.

"It's _Duncan_ and _Mickey_," Adam bit out, "Between them, they've practically reinvented the phrase _White Hat_."

"I don't know what _you're _worried about," Martha muttered. "Mac is immortal, Mickey is the one who is..." she sighed. "I'm going to kill him."

"Not if the Judoon get to him first," Adam said lightly.

Martha eyed him. "You're sure you've never met the Doctor?"

"I'm sure."

"Are you lying to me?"

"As if I'd do that."

"You're totally lying to me, aren't you?"

He smirked. "Maybe."

"I hate you."

"Noted."

* * *

They sat on the remains of a squashed Prius, propping each other up at the shoulder as they stared at the rubbled motorway. "You know," Martha said, into the silence. "When you taught me how to use a sword. I'm pretty sure it never occurred to me how handy it'd be for hacking rogue AIs out of killer cars."

"Got to love the twenty first century," Adam said.

"We've completely totalled the M1, haven't we?"

Adam eyed her "They're not going to take it out of your pay check, are they?"

Despite herself, Martha started to laugh. "You're a complete nutter. You know that, don't you?"

"Yup," Adam said. "And my name is Methos, by the way."

"Mythos? Seriously?" Martha sniggered. "Ego much?"

"But you may call me Adam," Methos finished.

"Much better," Martha said, with a small nod. "You look like an Adam."

Methos gave her a rueful look. "What did I do to deserve you in my life."

"I'm not quite sure, but I'll bet it was something very, very bad."

"Smart arse."

"_Mythos._"

"Oh for - listen, just forget I said anything, alright?"

"Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No! It's a _mythos!_"

"I'm being punished, I know I am," he whined, as he got to his feet.

"Duh duh duh DUH! Duh, duh, _duh_!" she sang, out of key.

"Oh Gods, no."

"Duh, duh-duh-duh. DUH-duh-duh!" Martha grinned as he stalked off. Silly idiot; as if she hadn't figured out who he was _ages_ ago. Still, it was kind of sweet that he'd told her...

"Hey, Methos, wait up! You forgot your sidekick!"

She ran after him.

**FiNiS**


End file.
